


Cotton Candy

by Im_A_Terrible_Person



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blindfolds, Breathplay, Can you tell?, Collars, Collars & Leashes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom/sub, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Leashes, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Not sure if that applies, Please do actual research if you wanna try anything depicted here, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, Subspace, The smut here is very vanilla, This isn't how these realtionships work IRL, To clarify, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, but it's implied that future stuff is very much not, i wrote this while half-asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29842338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_A_Terrible_Person/pseuds/Im_A_Terrible_Person
Summary: Just soft. So soft. I say the word 'soft' a million times in this fic cuz just soft.
Relationships: Cooper Schulz/Travis | Traves
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Cotton Candy

Travis felt so ashamed. After he’d moved in with Cooper, he could never have expected things to take such a dark turn. He felt as if he’d never be able to look Cooper in the eyes again, which was a shame, ‘cause he had such pretty eyes. He felt so stupid, for taking every little thing out of context, for wanting what he did. For fantasizing about the things he did. For buying such sordid things.

They were friends, close friends. He’d hugged Cooper, he’d cried to Cooper, he had trusted Cooper with secrets he hadn’t even thought of telling anybody else. Travis felt as if he was betraying him when he locked his door at night and got himself off to the memories, to lewd fantasies that should have never crossed his mind.

He’d started noticing it months ago. They were watching a horror movie. It was a good one, some psychological thriller that scared Travis out of his skin. Every scare, no matter how cheap, made him yelp. The problem was that it was such a good movie that it had scared Cooper too. A bigger issue is that whenever Travis got too scared, he’d watch Cooper instead of the movie.

So when he turns away, whimpering at the gore that was burned into the inside of his brain, he focuses on Cooper. Then forgets to look away. He’s curled in on himself, and his brow furrows in distress. He’s chewing on his cheek, jerking every so often. Travis assumes it’s because there’s something scary happening on-screen, but he just can’t bring himself to look away.

When the movie ends, he forces himself to look away so Cooper won’t notice that he’s been staring at him for so long. He’s not sure it works, but Cooper doesn’t mention it. They turn on something a little mundane, to lighten the mood. He can’t focus on it, the memory of Cooper getting so scared taking over his mind. He wouldn’t ask why, not yet, but he just can’t stop thinking about it.

But that’s fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with that? He thought so, at first, until he just couldn’t stop. The first time he jacked off to it, he’d felt so guilty that he’d avoided Cooper for days. He couldn’t do that forever, but he tried. God, the humiliation of getting himself off to his own roommate.

Now that he’d crossed that line, it was so easy to go so much farther. He started noticing things in everyday life. Things that meant nothing, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. His mind was just ‘Cooper, Cooper, Cooper’ 24/7. He was obsessed, infatuated, in love.

His admiration turned sexual almost immediately. He started noticing the way Cooper looked. Travis noticed his long hair, just long enough for him to pull. He wanted to, to watch tears fall from those pretty blue eyes. To watch him beg.

He notices his legs. They’re thick and strong, but with a layer of fat that makes them look so soft. He wants to bite them. Wants Cooper to sit on his face, let him dig his fingers into the softness he found there.

He tries to forget it. It’s wrong, he tells himself. He tries to think about anything else, but it’s impossible to avoid someone like that when they’re living in your house. Cooper picks up that something’s wrong, tries to let him get his way more often.

That just makes it worse. Watching him give in at the slightest bit of pressure makes Travis feel so hot, makes him want to do it more. He tries ordering him around a bit more, not too much. Asks him to pick something up for him, to get something for him.

He does it. That shouldn’t be hot, yet it is. He’s sure that Cooper’s noticed by now, but he lets him get away with it, not even making jokes about it. He pretends nothing changed, that he doesn’t drop everything to follow Travis’s orders.

Travis feels like some creepy pervert the first time he notices the noises. Normal noises, everyday noises. Noises that play on a loop in his head until that night, where he bites into his pillow and ruts into his hand, imagining that it’s Cooper he’s fucking into. Little moans when he’s eating, stretching. Ambient noises that aren’t even remotely sexual. But he gets off on them anyway, willing to take whatever he can get.

He feels so guilty when he’s coming down, imagining the hurt in Cooper’s eyes if he ever found out. It destroys him to even think about it. So he tries to turn his fantasies away from sex, more towards the... He doesn’t know what to call it.

Travis wants to boss him around. He wants Cooper to trust him absolutely, which is kind of ironic. He imagines blindfolding Cooper, forcing him to trust Travis to tell him how to move. To take care of him.

God, he wants to take care of him. Wants to cuddle him and love him and fuck him. He wants to hug him and kiss him, to surround him with fluffy things, sealing him away from the world. The thought’s irrational, obsessive. Cooper’s already exposed to the world, but that just makes it so much better. Protecting someone from something they didn’t know about never worked out. That’s just imprisonment.

Travis likes to think that Cooper’d appreciate it. Appreciate it if he’d keep him, own him. He wants Cooper. He wants Cooper to want him. Thinking about it makes his heart ache, makes his eyes sting. He’d never get to have that.

He could dream, though. Could live in this brief fantasy. He buys things, things he knows he’ll never use. The knowledge that he has them is enough to keep that fantasy going, that one day he’ll use them.

Travis buys a collar and leash as if he’d get to lead Cooper around one day, get him to be his pet. He buys a blindfold, a dark blue one that’s made of soft silk, the kind that tears would show through so easily. He hides them in a box beneath his bed, praying that no one would ever find them.

He builds on his fantasy, wondering what he’d want Cooper to call him. In all the porn he’s seen, Master, Daddy, Sir are all very popular. None of them sit well with him. ‘Master’ reminds him too much of slavery, and he just can’t picture Cooper saying it unironically. ‘Daddy’ just makes him think of creepy old dudes, so that was a no. ‘Sir’ was impersonal, cold. He thinks he’d like Cooper to say his name.

Did he want to call Cooper anything? There was an infinite number of pet names for him to choose from, after all. Darling, sweetheart, pet, baby boy, puppy, just to name a few. They all feel weird. Travis whispers them late at night, just to test how they feel in his mouth. He likes ‘puppy’ and ‘sweetheart’, but he can’t imagine actually saying them to Cooper’s face without dying of embarrassment. He’d probably just call him Coopie, ‘cause he thought it was cute.

What does he want to do to Cooper? Travis does some research, watching different blondes that never look enough like Cooper in different scenarios, trying to find which one that he really enjoys. He likes the feeder ones. He likes the idea of providing for Cooper, taking care of him. Fattening him up. Though he doesn’t want to make him unhealthy. He loves the long ones, the fantasies that last for days. He likes the thought of controlling him for that long, likes the thought of Cooper giving himself over to him so completely.

He likes the thought of bossing him around. Not even always sexually, just in a controlling way. It sounds unhealthy, sure. But it just sounds so nice to him, the thought of protecting him like that. He hasn’t researched this, not at all, but he’s sure that if he actually wanted to do this they’d have to talk about it, establish boundaries.

He builds on those fantasies day after day, discovering new things about himself. He wants to fuck Cooper until he cries. Travis imagined him until he begs, forget any dignity he once had. He wants Cooper to know that he belongs to Travis, mind, body, and soul. He doesn’t want to hurt him, wants to tell him how pretty he is, how much he loves everything about him.

He’s in so deep.

Travis notices even more things. How adverse Cooper is to displease him. How even a hint of disappointment has him apologizing, he’ll make it up, please don’t be mad.

He starts calling him Coopie when he orders him around, notices how just him saying it derails Cooper’s thoughts, making him focus on Travis. It gives him butterflies. He loves it, loves watching him try to act normal. It makes him feel important.

Cooper acts a little differently. He pushes back, just a little when Travis orders him around. He quickly falls in line, all it takes is a disappointed frown and he can practically see the regret as he complies, not even pretending that he isn’t following his orders.

-

Cooper isn’t sure when this started. It’s been a staple of their interactions for a while now, a little dance they pretend they aren’t doing. He looks away when Travis brings in conspicuous sleek black bags, Travis acts oblivious when he lets him boss him around. He isn’t subtle, the way he blushes, red as a tomato, whenever Cooper shows even the slightest obedience.

He’s not sure what it means when he listens to Travis moan his name in the middle of the night. Not sure what it means when he gets off to Travis moaning his name in the middle of the night, biting into his hand so none of his embarrassing noises escape. He’s not sure what he wants it to mean.

Does he want to date Travis? The term feels trivial. It’s the only one that he can think of, though. He’s tiring of their dance by now, but he doesn’t want this to fade. Cooper feels overdramatic, thinking of sex in such grand terms, but it just feels like something grandiose with Travis. Something all-consuming, important.

He wants to do something about it. But how? Should he just bring it up, while they’re sat in the living room (he’s pretending he doesn’t feel Travis’s eyes on him, so hungry that it makes him shiver)? Should he ask about the bags over breakfast? Tell Travis that he hears him at night, the way he says his name so loud, as if he wants him to hear?

He isn’t sure what to do until he comes across Travis’s browsing history. He isn’t sure why he’s on Travis’s computer. Travis wasn’t there to stop him, so he scrolls through his history. It’s mostly normal, social media and google searches for something that he couldn’t imagine thinking of.

But every so often, there’s a site. Cooper doesn’t know this site exactly, but he knows a porn site when he sees it. He clicks on it, muting the audio as he stares at something that confirmed everything. It could have all been a misunderstanding, a figment of his imagination. But now, with the evidence staring him in the face, there’s no denying it.

Every video is starring a blonde guy with blue eyes, and he can recognize a little of himself in each one of them. In the nose, the jaw, the lips. The silhouette. He’s almost flattered that Travis noticed things this small. It’s creepy, but it still makes his heart flutter.

He clicks through, slowly getting more turned on the more he watched. Was this what Travis wanted, when he got himself off late at night? Was this what he imagined when he was shouting his name? He hoped so, though he couldn’t imagine any other reason for Travis to be watching these.

He feels a bit out of his depth, as he watches these videos. Travis... this was what Travis had been picturing when he stared at him? He hadn’t even considered most of the things on this list. He leans forward, drinking in every video, trying to imagine what Travis was getting out of it. The blonde stars were the only constant. Everything else changed. The plot, the other person, the subject. Everything else changed.

“Cooper?” Fuck. He doesn’t bother clicking off, just turning around to look at Travis, standing in the doorway. He suddenly feels so small, like he’s in the wrong here, caught looking at such dirty things on Travis’s computer.

Travis’s eyes flick past him, looking at the muted video playing on the screen. His face reddens, and he shifts on his feet like he’s uncomfortable. The gravitas of the situation seems to hit him, practically steamrolling him as he realizes this moment could destroy their relationship. Or bring it to new, euphoric heights.

“Travis,” He says. His mouth feels dry. He settles for just looking back at the computer, then back at Travis. He was going to have to explain himself.

Travis sits down on his bed, settling in for this undoubtedly awkward conversation. He forces himself to relax, to look as unthreatening and non-judgemental as possible. Travis takes a deep breath, collecting himself. Then he stops. He looks at Cooper, right in the eyes.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” His voice is uncharacteristically serious, soft, and quiet. Cooper frowns.

“Tell me why.” Tell me what you want from this. What were you hoping for?

“I like you. No, I love you” That’s strange. “You’re so pretty, so perfect.” He struggles for a second, trying to express his thoughts. Cooper rubbed a hand over his face.

“What do you want, then? You wanna fuck me? Wanna date me? Wanna kill me?” He huffs, a bit miffed he has to spell it out for him. Maybe Travis wasn’t pretending to be oblivious. God, that’s cute. Travis looks upset, frustrated. Like Cooper’s the one not understanding.

“I wanna own you. I want you to be mine.” Wait, what? Cooper blinks, going still. Travis wanted to... to own him? What the fuck does that mean?! That’s something a psychopath says, and the thought leaves a foul taste in his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” He... he can’t focus. What on earth does Travis mean by ‘own him’?

“I want to take care of you,” Travis whined, eyes pleading with him to understand. Cooper pulls a face, confused, as he tries to think it through. Own him. Take care of him. (Pamper him, fuck him, love him). The idea awakens something in him, something quiet and lazy that warms him from the inside out.

“Like a pet?” His voice is high, voice breaking as he lost his composure. Why was that idea so appealing?

“Yeah. Sort of.” There’s a stretch of silence after that, where it feels like neither of them breathes. Cooper gets out of the chair, knees feeling weak. He doesn’t look at Travis as he approaches, carefully settling down on his knees in front of Travis. He looks up at him, trying to keep his face blank. His heart is beating in his ears, suddenly worried that this isn’t what he meant.

Oh well. He lets his head rest on one of Travis’s knees. He sighs, letting his eyes flutter closed as he waits for Travis to process. This is so obvious that Travis couldn’t possibly misunderstand.

A hand strokes through his hair, tentative. It’s soft. He hums, encouraging him to go farther. Travis does it again, essentially petting him. The thought makes him feel warm. He opens his eyes, looking up. Travis’s breath hitches, hand stilling. He nudges into the hand. The moment’s awkward, but there’s a tension that prevents that realization from ruining it.

He tries to imagine what Travis is seeing right now, what could he possibly find so hot about him. What could he possibly see in Cooper right now?

“Do you want to be mine?” Travis sounds scared, almost too innocent to be asking what he is.

“Duh.” Cooper grins, teasing. Travis frowns at him, tugging lightly at his hair. He whimpers. Fucking whimpers. God, what was he doing? Letting this sweet boy put him on his knees and pull his hair.

“Sorry.” He was, even though he hadn’t really done anything wrong.

“Get up here.” He does, feeling a strange sense of pride as Travis smiles, looking pleased.

“Um. I don’t want you to, uh, to do anything you don’t want to do. We need, uh, some way to...” He stumbles over his words. He gets his point across.

“What, a safeword?” Oh, that’s probably a good idea. Travis nods. Cooper looks around the room, trying to find a suitably unique object to be it. Pillow? Sheet? Curtains? Computer? There’s a candy wrapper on Travis’s desk. A Snickers bar.

“Uh, Snickers?” God, this is stupid. Travis nods, muttering the word under his breath. Travis softly pushes Cooper back onto the bed. He grunts but doesn’t complain. He kept his eyes on Travis as he stood up, moving to the computer. Instead of turning it off, he types, searching something up.

Soft, almost hypnotic music plays through his speakers. Satisfied, he moves back to the bed, bringing the chair with him. He sits it down at the end, leaving Cooper feeling like a bug under a microscope. He feels so exposed, like Travis is watching his every movement, staring into his very soul.

“Sit in the middle.” The words are soft. Like he knows Cooper will listen to him, no matter what tone he uses. He does, leaning back against the headboard with a shaky exhale. So they were doing this. He looks to Travis for his next command.

“Wait, get up.” It’s contradictory. He says nothing, instead getting up again.

“Grab the black bags. They’re under the bed.” Oh. Cooper does, grunting as the bed frame digs into his back. He finds them, pulling them out and putting them on the bed. There are a few, all shiny, dark, and mysterious.

“Go back.” He does, leaves the bags. He isn’t sure if that’s what he’s supposed to do, that knowledge makes him tense, inexplicably scared of disobeying.

“Close your eyes.” He does, the loss of his sight bringing everything else into sharp relief. He hears the soft pad of Travis’s feet as he approached. There’s a rustling noise, then the bed dips down next to him. He doesn’t open his eyes.

“Good boy, Coopie.” He sucks his breath in harshly, feeling like a live wire as every minor sensation burned through his mind like fire. Travis tugs at his shirt, lifting it up over his stomach. Cooper lifts his arms up, letting him take it off all the way.

He doesn’t touch his pants, not yet. Instead, there’s a clinking noise and then there’s cool leather around his neck. Cooper holds his breath as Travis clasps it around his neck, tugging it so that the cold tag on it rests against his chest. He wants to open his eyes so badly, but he doesn’t. Cooper’s good. He listens. His heart feels like it’s trying to bust out of his ribcage.

“Open your eyes.” He does, wincing slightly at the brightness. He immediately looks to Travis, who looks startlingly calm. That’s fine. Travis could act so calm and collected for him. He could just... let Travis think for him. He’d take care of him.

Travis’s hand is on his hip, guiding him onto his knees., then pushing him forward. He moves forward a few inches. Travis is silent, just stroking a hand down his back. He pulls his pants off with little ceremony, taking his boxers with him. All too soon, he’s left exposed. His cock twitches to life in the open air. He squeezes his eyes together, letting his head drop.

Travis stops touching him. He whines unexpectedly. Cooper doesn’t want to even have the illusion of being left alone. He doesn’t speak, though. He knows Travis gets it. Travis places a hand on his hip, reassuring him.

He feels loved. Wanted. Cared for, even though they’ve barely begun. There’s a crack, disconcertingly loud in the quiet atmosphere they’ve created. Oh, right. Lube. He blushes, feeling oddly bashful. He’s done this before, but somehow this all feels so very new. Cooper exhales, letting himself relax into Travis’s hand. It leaves for a second, before returning almost immediately. It’s a comforting weight.

Then there’s a finger pushing against his entrance. It’s careful, movements languid as he softly wiggles it in deeper. Cooper doesn’t moan, not yet, but he lets out a soft noise. Travis pulls back, and then there are two fingers pressing against his walls. He moans, soft, as they spread and curl.

He rolls his hips back, wanting more. He moans louder as they hit his prostate. Fuck, it feels so good. The fingers stop.

“Cooper.” There’s a warning in his voice. He presses a third finger in, spreading them as far as they’ll go. Cooper chokes out an apology, forcing his hips to still. Cooper’s good. He’ll be good. He hates that disappointment, the knowledge that he had failed.

Travis thrust them in a few times, not really trying for a rhythm yet. Each thrust presses directly into his prostate, making him moan into the sheets he had his face pressed into. Travis’s hand drops from his hip. His fingers pull out, making him whine.

“Get up.” Could he, even? His legs felt like jello. He does, feeling distractingly empty. He looks to Travis almost immediately, awaiting his next command.

Travis sits back against the headboard, looking flustered. His cock tented out the front of his sweatpants as he looked at Cooper. He wordlessly beckons him closer until he’s straddling Travis’s lap. His thighs tremble from the strain of holding himself up, resisting the urge to just sit down. Travis hadn’t told him he could yet.

“Put it on.” Travis reaches his clean hand for the blindfold, holding it out to Cooper.

Cooper does, tying it behind his head in a simple knot. He can’t see anything but blue. Travis lets him hang for a while, clearly enjoying the suspense. Then there’s a rustling noise, the sound of fabric against skin, and Travis is pulling him closer, letting his chin hook over his shoulder. There’s a wet sound, a filthy noise as Travis slicks himself up. He lines himself up, before finally letting Cooper sink down. The slide is smooth until he’s all the way in. He grinds up, just a little circle against his prostate, but it has Cooper gasping.

Then he stops.

“Ride me.” The words are simple. Cooper tries, shakily rising. His thighs burn already. Cooper leans heavily on Travis as he tries again, smoother this time. He doesn’t get up very far, but the friction of Travis’s cock inside him more than makes up for it. He’s not terribly full, as he’s got toys far bigger than Travis, but something about the fact that it was Travis makes it feel overwhelming. Cooper clenches down, feeling the resistance.

He bounces, the burning in his thighs forgotten as Travis’s cock hits his prostate over and over. He’s moaning, he realizes, so desperate and needy that it almost shocks him.

-

Travis felt amazing. He could barely believe this was happening, that this was real. Cooper was straddling him, collared and blindfolded, as he struggled to ride his cock. He was so warm inside, so wet. Travis was content to let Cooper struggle for a while, enjoying the sight of his thighs trembling, the sound of his needy moans, desperate for Travis to help him.

So he does. He signals Cooper to stop with a hand on his leg. That would never get old, that simple movement, watching Cooper just listen to him. He makes Cooper get up, collapsing onto the bed next to Travis. Travis hasn’t even fully undressed, with his sweatpants still half-on, his shirt untouched. He quickly shucks them off onto the floor before reaching for Cooper, arranging him so he’s in the position he started in, on all fours with his head buried in the sheets and his ass in the air.

Travis presses his hand down on Cooper’s back, admiring the arch it creates. Cooper looks so pretty right now, so soft. There’s no urgency to Travis’s movements as he lines himself up again, pushing in without great ceremony. Cooper groans, sounds so relieved, almost as if he’d just sunk into a nice hot bath.

Travis grabs Cooper’s hip with one hand, the other reaching for the end of the leash. The leather is a simple blue, matching the blindfold. He loves how it looks against Cooper’s skin. He pulls the leash taut, forcing Cooper up and cutting off his air supply as he fucks into him with a power he hadn’t expected.

Cooper tries to moan, scrabbling at the collar. Travis pays that no mind, instead focusing on building up a rhythm. The wet sounds of their skin slapping together are embarrassingly loud. The lewd sound makes Travis blush, even as he pulls on the leash harder, fucks into Cooper harder.

Travis lets up after a little, dropping the leash in favor of grabbing Cooper’s hips with both hands, using it for leverage as he forces his cock in deep. He loves the friction of it, so much better than any of his fantasies. He’s not loud, not really, but his moans mix with Cooper’s, intertwining in such a beautiful way. Travis loves it, almost wishes he was recording so he could listen to it on repeat.

He ruts into Cooper, the desperation of everything that’s been building up over the past months stealing away his patience. Travis has had sex before, but it was always slow, soft, and sweet. He’s never had the opportunity to take control like this, to thrust so hard he’s sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow, that Cooper will have trouble sitting, walking.

He’d get to take care of him. The thought makes him groan, leaning forward to wrap a hand around Cooper’s cock, getting him off with short, jerky strokes. Cooper doesn’t last long, only a few minutes until he whines, and there’s cum soaking Travis’s hand. Travis follows, cumming inside Cooper with a whimper..

He pulls out, doesn’t leave Cooper yet. Travis guides him until he’s lying on his back, not in the wet spot. He doesn’t touch the blindfold, not yet. He leaves to grab a towel, quick as he can. When he returns, Cooper is making little distressed sounds. Not words, not exactly, but it makes Travis feel guilty for leaving him.

He wipes Cooper off, cleaning the cum that’s smeared over his stomach and leaking down his thighs. Then he has Cooper stand up. Walks him to the living room, a hand on his leash. He makes him sit down on the couch as he grabs some blankets, purposely trying to make his steps a little heavier so Cooper doesn’t feel that he’s left him.

Travis grabs some water as an afterthought. When he returns, he bundles them both up in the blankets, pressed tightly together. He lets Cooper lean on him as he puts on a TV show for some background noise, as he just holds him like that. He coaxes him into drinking some water, and then he just pets Cooper’s hair, cooing out any compliments that come to mind.

It’s so terribly sweet, it feels like a dream. Like they’re on clouds, so soft. Cooper relaxes into him, basking in the warmth of the blankets around them and the soft praise, the hand petting through his hair, the comforting weight of the collar around his neck as they just sit there, wrapped up in this moment.

-

Cooper isn’t sure how long they’ve been there, he doesn’t really care. His mind is so quiet, feels like he’d filled it with cotton balls. He doesn’t really need to think at that moment, just letting himself sink back into that soft, inviting warmth. He’s content.

Travis has stopped speaking, has stopped petting him. His hand is just resting on his head, his breath whooshing against the top of his head as they lie there. Travis could be watching TV, or be on his phone, might not even be there, but Cooper feels like he’s watching him, watching over him.

He slips off to sleep, just like that, lets his mind turn off completely.


End file.
